


Almost Is Never Enough

by SeeBeeStrellacott



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, Cormoran Strike Loves Robin Ellacott, F/M, Inspired by Music, Musical References, Robin's Wedding, Smut, champagne kink, classy smut, spontaneous combustion possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeBeeStrellacott/pseuds/SeeBeeStrellacott
Summary: Robin's wedding re-imagined.  What if Cormoran hadn't run out during her first dance?
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 54
Kudos: 82
Collections: Musical Musings - Cormoran Strike Fic Exchange





	1. Almost Is Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cait12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cait12/gifts).



> This work is part of a new collection, Musical Musings - Cormoran Strike Fic Exchange. If you would like a see a certain song included in a fic, post your request to the collection. You can also leave it for me in the comments if you want. The collection is open to everyone.

The song inspiration:  


Strike watched from the bar as Robin snuck out of her wedding, quickly followed by her new _husband_. He could see that she was upset, though he was probably one of the few that could. He knew her so well, he could read all of the little undercurrents of emotion in her expressions. He knew how angry she was with _the tit_. Though he hated that Robin was hurting right now, he was relieved that the reason she hadn’t responded to his messages was because she had never gotten them, not because she didn’t want to talk to him.

Strike was glad when he saw Stephen follow them upstairs. Much as he would like to punch Matthew, her brother would probably be a more welcome presence at the moment. Plus, his injured hand was already hurting, not to mention the rest of him.

He desperately wanted to leave, but he also wanted to be here for Robin. He knew this was important to her, much as he hated watching it. He had accomplished his goal in coming here, apologizing to her and getting her to come back to work. Back to _him_. 

He decided he would at least stay long enough to talk to her one more time, hopefully alone, and maybe dance with her. She looked incredibly beautiful in her wedding dress. He hated that it was all for someone else. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to hold her in his arms at least once, and this might be the only opportunity he would ever receive. Tired as he was, he could wait that long at least.

Stephen returned a short time later and whispered in his wife’s ear. He didn’t look happy. That meant that Robin was alone. Strike started to step away from the bar to find her, just in case, but then she and Matthew came back in, neither looking very happy. Strike noticed that Robin’s arm brace was back on. Was that why she had left? Had he misinterpreted her body language earlier? No, he was sure he had read her right.

If Strike was honest with himself, he would admit that part of his motivation for staying was _hope_. Hope that the tension between the bride and groom might somehow work in his favor. _Maybe_? But hope was a dangerous emotion. It carried with it the threat of total annihilation. A small part of him knew he should leave, knew he should have never have come. He knew that “annihilated” was exactly what his heart would be when Robin left here with her husband. 

Even still, he couldn’t forget Robin’s face as she had said “I do”. She had looked at _him_ , not her husband. And her face had lit up in a way that it certainly wasn’t now as she looked at _the twat_. And that treacherous feeling of hope bubbled up within him once more. 

Matthew was pulling his bride in for their first dance to “Wherever You Will Go” by The Calling. Strike wondered which of them had chosen the song, or was it a mutual decision. Bit of an odd choice… Didn’t they realize it was more of a breakup song?

Strike felt his strength crumbling as he watched Matthew’s expression soften, leaning down to Robin’s ear. _Fuck this_. He drained the last of his pint, deciding it was unnecessarily masochistic to put himself through this. He stood up to leave, but then the dancing couple turned and he locked eyes with Robin.

Her expression was haunted. He could see the hurt, and the pain, and… _longing_? She obviously wasn’t affected by the song the same way that her husband was. She seemed to be pleading with Strike, her eyes begging him to stay. He swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty and sat back down. 

Robin maintained eye contact with him through the whole of the dance. She winced a couple of times when Matthew had touched her injured arm. He didn’t seem to treat the injury with the tenderness and respect it deserved. _Fucking arsehole_. Didn’t he realized what Robin had gone through acquiring that scar?

Every time the couple would turn, Strike would glare at Matthew, giving him his most threatening look. Matthew resolutely avoided looking at him. _Cowardly tit._

The song ended, and Robin stepped quickly away from Matthew. She took one step towards Strike before her father caught her, taking his turn to dance with her. Strike got another pint and waited for an opportunity to steal the bride away. All of the family took their turns dancing with her. She kept a connection with Strike the entire time, sparing not even a glance for her new husband. Finally, Strike thought he saw an opening. She was dancing with Stephen, and the song was coming to an end.

He approached and tapped Stephen on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

Stephen kissed his sister on the cheek and stepped away. Strike offered Robin his injured hand and she gingerly took it. Ariana Grande’s “Almost Is Never Enough” started playing as he put his other hand on her waist. She made a pained expression as she lifted her injured arm to his shoulder.

_I’d like to say we gave it a try_

_I’d like to blame it all on life_

_Maybe we just weren’t right,_

_But that’s a lie, that’s a lie_

“How’s your arm? Is it hurting you?” he asked her quietly.

“A bit yeah. I should have had the brace on earlier.” Robin’s breath hitched as he leaned his cheek in next to hers.

_And we can deny it as much as we want_

_But in time our feelings will show_

“Why didn’t you wear it then?” he asked in her ear.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, then muttered something about Matthew and the pictures, but he didn’t quite catch it. He didn’t need to hear her exact words though, he understood. He experienced another flash of anger. He squeezed her waist gently, letting her know that he empathized, that he was here for her.

They swayed and turned slowly to the music. Strike’s nose was filled with the smell of Yorkshire roses, and Robin’s hair, and her skin. His senses were overwhelmed with her. The feel of the fabric beneath his fingers, the gentle touch of her hand, the smoothness of her cheek against his. 

Robin leaned into Strike. She longed to rest her head against his chest. She almost did, but realized she was in a roomful of people, _at her wedding_ , and it probably wouldn’t be appropriate to make an intimate gesture with _another man_. Instead she brushed her cheek over his, gently at first, then she leaned into him more firmly. He was gritty and dirty, but she couldn’t get enough of the feel of him. She wanted to be closer. She felt his sharp intake of breath. She wondered if his heart was pounding as hard as hers was. 

_‘Cause sooner or later_

_We’ll wonder why we gave up_

Strike felt a lump in his throat as Robin leaned into him. _What are you doing, you fucking sadist?_ Now that she was in his arms, he didn’t know how he would let her go. What was he thinking wanting this moment with her? Wouldn’t it have better to never know what it felt like to have her pressed against him? Wouldn’t it have better to never feel her skin against his? Wouldn’t it have been better for his arms not to remember the shape of her?

Robin breathed deeply, trying to hold back the tears. She closed her eyes, trying to memorize this moment. She never wanted to forget the feel of Cormoran’s stubble against her cheek, the way he tenderly held her, how cognizant he was of her arm. He was so thoughtful. She recognized the sharp contrast in the way Matthew regarded her injury. _What am I doing?_ She breathed in his scent, which wasn’t great at the moment, but there was an undercurrent of his unique _Cormoran_ smell. 

_Almost, almost is never enough_

_So close to being in love_

_If I would have known that you wanted me_

_The way I wanted you_

_Then maybe we wouldn’t be two worlds apart_

_But right here in each other’s arms_

Cormoran bit his lip, trying to hold back the tide of emotion. His breath was ragged as Robin nuzzled her cheek against his. His fingers tightened on her waist and he gently rubbed his thumb over the hand he was holding. 

He choked out, “I have to go.” But he kept holding her. She pressed into him in acknowledgement, willing him to stay.

_If I could change the world overnight_

_There’d be no such thing as goodbye_

“I’m sorry, Robin, I can’t do this. I have to leave.” She could hear the catch in his voice, feel the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him. 

She nuzzled her nose into his neck, all propriety forgotten. His chest heaved as if a tiny sob had escaped, and his head turned upward.

He pressed his face into her ear to murmur, “I can’t wish you congratulations. I can’t tell you I’m happy for you. I can’t watch you leave here with another man, with your husband.” His voice sounded strangled on the last word, as if the word itself had clung to his throat, refusing to let him utter it unscathed. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” He kissed her temple tenderly, his eyes closed tightly. His lips lingered for one…two…three seconds. As he pulled away, he dropped his hold on her and stepped away, whispering, “I can’t…”

Robin lurched forward at his abrupt absence. He made his way quickly across the room towards the door. He didn’t care if he caused a scene, all he knew was that he needed to get out there as soon as possible. A tidal wave was bearing down on him and he needed to let it destroy him in peace.

He practically ran down the stairs, seeking the refuge of the stolen car and his friend, whom he knew would understand. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard his name.

“Cormoran! Wait!” Robin was running towards him.

He turned towards her, taking in her beatific face. Hope surged once more inside him. He moved as if in slow motion, climbing the stairs back to her, drawn to her radiance. She stopped at the top of the stairs, he a couple of steps below her.

“I’m coming with you.”


	2. It's Now or Never

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to BKP (your username didn't come up to link it, sorry) for the song suggestion, I think it's just perfect.
> 
> Also, I don't know how marriage legally works in England, so just go with me on this one.

The song inspiration:

Cormoran’s face softened, a slow smile forming. As if in a dream, he climbed the few remaining steps to Robin. He reached out to her, wrapping an arm around her waist, the other gently sliding up her uninjured arm. He leaned in to kiss her. 

“No time for that!” Robin swatted him away. “We have to go! Now!”

She grabbed his good hand and pulled him down the stairs. Halfway down, she suddenly stopped and turned around, running back up the steps.

Thinking she had changed her mind, he was about to call out to her, chase after her. At the top of the stairs, Robin pulled the ring off her finger and set it atop the railing. Hitching up her skirts, she ran back to him, grabbed his hand once more, and pulled him forward. 

They could hear shouts and commotion spilling out of the reception behind them. Matthew was calling out for Robin to stop. Neither she nor Strike turned around. They ran toward the car as quickly as they could, but dress and prosthesis hindered their progress. Matthew caught up with them mere feet before they reached the car. He grabbed Robin unexpectedly by the arm, jerking her backwards. She let out a cry of pain as she was wrenched from Strike’s grip. Matthew had grabbed her injured arm.

Strike turned to see Robin whimpering in pain, trying to wrestle herself free from Matthew’s grasp. Strike’s face twisted in fury. He took one step towards Matthew and clenched his fist around the arm not holding Robin. He had wanted to grab the twat’s throat, but noticed there was a small crowd of family and wedding guests forming at the top of the stairs and thought better of it.

“Get your fucking hands off her, or I’ll break your fucking arm!” Strike growled, voice low and deadly.

Matthew seemed to have forgotten that Strike was there. He looked surprised to see the much larger man so close to him, looming above him, threatening him. He released Robin immediately and she shrank back into Strike’s side, cradling her injured arm. Strike relinquished his hold on Matthew, but didn’t look away from him. 

Strike leaned his head slightly towards Robin, still keeping an eye on Matthew, and said, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she panted. They both knew she wasn’t.

Matthew turned to Robin. Strike tried to push her slightly behind him to shield her, but she wouldn’t budge. 

“Robin, what are you doing?” Matthew addressed her. “Are you really going to run out on our wedding? With _him_?”

Robin drew herself up to her full height, ignoring the throbbing pain in her arm. “I shouldn’t have married you. We’ll get an annulment. I don’t love you anymore.”

“Robin, please. We can work through this,” Matthew pleaded, pathetically. Strike wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“No, Matt, we can’t. I can’t forgive you this time. I can’t love you after all of the lies and the betrayal.”

Matthew was angry again, voice rising. “You suddenly don’t love me anymore just because you found out I deleted some messages? Just like that? You’re willing to throw away a marriage because of something so stupid?”

Matthew’s anger oddly seemed to make Robin more calm. “No, that was just the last straw. You don’t get it and that’s the problem. You don’t respect me. You don’t understand me.”

“Oh, and _he_ does!” Matthew sneered at her. He leaned in towards her and practically spat, “Fine! If you want to throw your lot in with a fucking cripple, be my guest!”

Robin’s palm connected with Matthew’s cheek with an almighty smack. She heard the blow before she realized that it was she who had delivered it. Her hand had moved of its own accord. Matthew’s already livid face darkened. Robin was still too stunned by her the actions of her own hand to respond when Matthew raised his.

Strike, however, had anticipated the reaction. He had seen the steely glint in Matthew’s eyes, the resolve on his face. Strike’s boxer’s reflexes took over and his arm darted out to grab Matthew’s wrist before the raised hand could connect with Robin’s face.

Robin didn’t think she had ever seen Strike so angry. He looked downright frightening. His voice however, was eerily calm. Glancing up at the small crowd of onlookers, he said to Matthew, “A good friend of mine is a lawyer. There are now 20 or so witnesses to the attempted abuse of your new bride. I should beat you to bloody fucking pulp, but I have a feeling you’re going to suffer far worse. If you’re smart, you’ll walk away now.”

Shanker had gotten out of the car and was leaning against the side, his arms crossed over his chest. Matthew had looked like he was going to protest, but the sight of Shanker stopped him. Though he was much smaller than his friend, Shanker’s slightly feral aura was every bit as intimidating. He gave Matthew what could have been mistaken for a smile, but looked more like a snarl. Matthew saw a flash of gold. Shanker’s silent threat lent credence to Strike’s spoken one.

Strike could see Matthew’s surrender and released his wrist. Matthew had weighed his options. He could walk away with the humiliation of his wife running off with another man on their wedding day, or he could fight for her and be labeled as abusive. He decided his reputation would be tainted worse by the latter. The former, which put him as the victim, was the obvious choice. Not his fault. He turned and slowly made his way back to the wedding reception. Robin watched him walk away, her face contorted with revulsion.

“Robin?” Strike was holding his hand out to her. She gave her head a little shake, trying to clear the feelings of loathing she felt for her _husband_. She inwardly cringed at the word as she accepted the outstretched hand of her partner.

Shanker had already climbed back in the car and started it. Strike helped Robin into the backseat, stuffing lace and chiffon in after her, then darted around to the other side and got in the back with her.

“I knew you were going to try to steal the bride,” Shanker teased his friend.

“Yeah, well you stole a car, so we’re even.”

“This car is stolen?” Robin squeaked.

“Don’t ask, it’s better if you don’t know,” Strike whispered to her. More loudly, he told Shanker, “Just get us out of here.”

Strike and Robin turned around in their seats, watching the curious crowd of wedding guests disappear behind them. Stephen smiled at waved. The two turned back towards each other, grinning as each let out a small laugh of relief. They looked into each other’s eyes, heads slowly leaning in and tilting slightly to the side. Robin’s lips parted.

“Hate to interrupt,” came Shanker’s voice, “but where am I taking you?”

Strike sat back in his seat with a frustrated sigh. “Robin? Where would you like to go? We can go back to London or get a hotel here?” His throat felt dry and cracked as he said “hotel”. “Or we can get on a train and go anywhere you want.”

Robin was about to say London, but then she remembered… “Bugger, all of my stuff is back there. My phone, my clothes…”

Strike thought for a moment. “Right. Shanker, just take us to a hotel in Yorkshire and then you can go back to London.” He squeezed Robin’s hand. “We’ll get your things sorted and then we can take a train.”

Robin thrilled at the words “we” and “us” and “hotel”. Strike picked up her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, then interlocked his fingers with hers. 

“After we get you settled into a hotel, I’ll go back and get your things,” he told her.

“No, Cormoran, That won’t go over well at all, will it? I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Like a lead balloon,” he laughed, but she could see that he was serious. 

Strike’s mobile rang as he was looking up hotels. He answered it hesitantly, as he didn’t recognize the number, then his face relaxed. “Stephen, hi. How’d you get my number?” He pressed a button, putting the phone on speaker.

“I looked up your office number online and I guess it transferred to your mobile. I thought Robin might be needing her things. I can bring them to you, where are you going?”

“The Grand Hotel in York,” he told both Stephen and Shanker. Stephen said he would be there soon and rang off.

Robin was staring out the window, quiet and contemplative. 

“Are you alright?” Strike asked her.

She turned to him, giving him a small, sad smile as she slid her hand back into his. 

“I’m fine. Just thinking about the awful mess I’ve put myself in.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t left?” Strike looked apprehensive, anxious, and vulnerable. 

Robin’s heart thudded, not unpleasantly, at his vulnerability. She found it positively endearing. She smiled at him and pulled their interlocked fingers into her lap. “Absolutely not. I only wish I had done it sooner.”

She leaned towards Strike again. Just before their lips met, Shanker interrupted once again.

“Sorry, Bunsen, mate, but I need directions on where I’m going.”

Strike released a heavy sigh and sat back in his seat once more, conceding defeat. Perhaps in the backseat of a stolen car was not the best place for his first kiss with Robin. He took out his mobile again and entered the address into his GPS, told Shanker the next few steps in the directions, and then called Ilsa. He again put the phone on speaker for Robin’s benefit.

After having the situation explained to her, Ilsa said, “I think you should easily be granted an annulment.” Then an idea occurred to her. “Robin,” she said slowly, “did you ever actually sign the marriage license?”

Robin looked a little surprised by the question. “No, we hadn’t gotten around to that yet.”

Strike could hear Ilsa’s smile, “Then you don’t need an annulment. You’re not actually married. You can have as many ceremonies as you want, but until you sign the license, it’s not official.”

Robin squealed with delight, “I’m free!”

Strike laughed at her exuberance, then she unexpectedly leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. The kiss was cut abruptly short as the car hit a bump, causing them to break apart. Strike hissed in pain as his broken nose collided with Robin’s face. They had no time to resume the kiss, as Shanker eased the car to a stop outside The Grand.

Strike thanked Shanker, saying that he owed him one. Shanker responded, “Don’t worry about it Bunsen, this one’s on me.” He then reached out a hand to shake Strike’s in a silent offer of congratulations, and drove off.

Strike took Robin’s hand once more and led her into the lobby of the hotel. 

“We’d like your best room, please,” he said jovially to the hotel clerk. 

The clerk looked slightly alarmed at the sight of the battered bride and, he assumed, groom. The clerk slid easily back into his professional demeanor, though he couldn’t resist a bit of sarcasm. “Well the _honeymoon_ suite is unavailable this evening, I’m afraid, as people usually book that in _advance_. But we do have one Jacuzzi suite still available.”

“We’ll take it,” Strike said as he pulled out his wallet and withdrew the credit card with the largest remaining balance. “And could we also have a bottle of champagne and a fruit and cheese platter sent up, please?”

“Of course, sir,” said the clerk, who had noticed the couple’s lack of luggage but chose not to comment.

Strike and Robin collected their key cards and walked towards the lifts. As they waited for the lift to arrive, Strike noticed the rippling guitar entrance of Elvis’s “It’s Now or Never”. He smiled down at Robin as the words washed over him, somehow elucidating his exact feelings.

_When I first saw you_

_With your smile so tender_

_My heart was captured,_

_My soul surrendered_

_I’d spend a lifetime_

_Waiting for the right time_

The lift arrived, and they stepped inside as the song continued.

_Now that you’re near_

_The time is here at last_

Robin and Strike turned in unison, their lips crashing into each other. His arms went around her waist while hers wrapped around his neck. The lift doors suddenly opened again, still on the ground floor, as neither of them had pressed a button. Not caring that their passionate embrace was exposed to the entire lobby, Strike reached behind Robin and jabbed at the button for the top floor, still entwined in each other.

Strike kissed her hungrily, his tongue probing into her mouth. Robin responded with enthusiasm, pushing him against the wall of the lift. Strike hissed again as his nose bumped against Robin’s cheek, but he didn’t break the kiss.

_It’s now or never,_

_Come hold me tight_

_Kiss me my darling,_

_Be mine tonight_

_Tomorrow will be too late,_

_It’s now or never_

_My love won’t wait_

His hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer as her fingers twisted in his hair. They were wild, crazed with lust as their tongues continued to swirl in a rhythmic dance. 

All too soon, the lift doors opened again. Lost as they were in each other, they didn’t notice until a woman waiting for the lift cleared her throat loudly. They sprang apart guiltily and ducked out of lift. Under the judgmental glare of the woman now disappearing behind the lift doors, Robin slid her arm into his jacket and around his waist as Strike steered them towards their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is planned, but not written. I think I've picked a song but I'm still mulling it over. And yes, there will be smut. How could I not when that's obviously what would happen next.


	3. The One I've Been Waiting For?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smut!
> 
> Find the song inspiration [here ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9r83bBR-dw)
> 
> Thanks to Cait12 for the idea.
> 
> I really wanted to use this song, but it just wasn't coming together right. Then I thought I had a different one picked out, but it wasn't working either. Finally inspiration struck, and I think the original ended up being just perfect.
> 
> This chapter is a little long - no pun intended. Well, maybe a little pun. 😉
> 
> If you have other song suggestions you'd like to see in a fic, you can post them to the Musical Musings - Cormoran Strike Fic Exchange or find me on Tumblr @seebee239.

As they approached their hotel room, Robin started to feel the weight of what she had done. She had walked out on a wedding that had cost her parents a lot of money. _A wedding I hated_ , she thought. She had also walked out on not only a marriage, but a relationship that she had invested nearly half of her life into. _A relationship that had long since run its course_ , she countered. 

She wasn’t having regrets exactly, but she was sorry for the hurt she had cost her family, and for how she had run away instead of dealing with it head on. 

Strike seemed to read her thoughts, as he so often did. “It wouldn’t help to go back there now. You’ve already said your piece.” His thumb rubbed across the small of her back, where his hand rested. 

“I know, I just feel bad about my parents.” Her arm tightened around his waist.

“Best to let the dust settle for a bit. I don’t think either of us would be very welcome at the moment,” he told her lightly. Then he added more seriously, “It’s your life, Robin, not theirs.”

She gave him a small smile and nod in response. They reached their hotel room and Strike unlocked the door, holding it open for her. He had thoughts of carrying her across the threshold, but wasn’t sure his stump could handle it.

The room was beautiful, with a large plush bed and soft pillows, a Georgian sofa, and a large Jacuzzi tub set into a dais in the corner of the room. Two large, fluffy robes hung by the tub. 

“Ooh, gooooorgeous!” Robin crooned as she ran her hand over one of the robes.

Strike was watching her somewhat nervously. Finally, finally he had Robin all to himself. Finally, he was allowed to touch her, to kiss her. He wasn’t usually nervous around women, but then he also wasn’t usually in love with a woman before even kissing her. In fact, he wasn’t ever in love with any woman. His mind turned, unbidden, to Charlotte. She was the only love he had ever known, but he saw now how wrong he was in thinking that she had loved him. She had wanted to control him and manipulate him. She had wanted him to worship her, and she was good at getting what she wanted. He had been captivated by her mystery and her beauty. Sure, he may have loved her at one time, when he was younger and inexperienced. But now he saw that what he thought was love was nothing more than toxic infatuation.

Now, he was on the cusp of something greater than he had ever imagined. Hope shimmered on the distant horizon, the promise of reprieve like a desert oasis. He felt lighter with every step he took towards Robin, as the weight of his unsatisfactory past slowly melted away.

Now, the woman he was hopelessly in love with was standing in front of him, in a hotel room they would be sharing, wearing a wedding dress.

He had never allowed himself to dream of this of moment with Robin. He had always cut those thoughts short as soon as they had entered his mind, not just because it was inappropriate, but largely out of self-preservation. 

If he had ever dreamed of spending the night in a hotel with Robin, it certainly wouldn’t have been under the current circumstances. The wedding dress she was wearing wasn’t for him. She had said “I do” to another man. But if Strike had any misgivings about stealing the bride away, he didn’t let it show has he pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. 

This kiss wasn’t fueled by lust, like their moment in the lift earlier. This kiss was an expression of all the words they hadn’t yet said. This was how he had wanted to kiss her on the dancefloor, when she had nuzzled into his neck. His injured hand pressed into the small of her back, drawing her closer, while his other hand snaked into her hair, cradling the back of her head. Cormoran felt Robin wince as she lifted her injured arm, resting it on his chest. Her other arm wound around his neck as she arched into him. 

The kiss started slowly, as Cormoran captured her lips with his. He parted her lips as the tip of his tongue slid forth, gently coaxing hers. Robin responded, her tongue meeting his in a delicate dance. She moaned as Cormoran sucked her tongue into his mouth, encouraging her to deepen the kiss. He was guiding her forward, but also somehow letting her lead. He wasn’t claiming her mouth the way Matthew did, powerful and controlling. She was used to feeling like a recipient, a submissive and passive observer. But Cormoran made her an active participant. With the tiniest actions, he let her know she was valued and respected, like an equal.

Time lost all meaning as their hands caressed skin, fingers twirled in hair, and lips and tongues moved in perfect harmony. Their lips slowed as the kiss came to an end. They rested their foreheads together, both trying to regain their breath.

The moment abruptly ended as Cormoran’s phone pinged with a text. It was Stephen, saying he was downstairs. Cormoran went to collect her things from Stephen while Robin waited for the delivery of the champagne.

Downstairs, Stephen was slightly relieved to see that while Strike was still dirty and rumpled, his disheveled appearance did not appear to be post-coital. He wasn’t sure he could say what he wanted to say if the man had just defiled his sister. 

Stephen handed Strike Robin’s suitcase, her phone, and a carrier bag. “I thought you might be needing some clothes also,” he told Strike. “They’re mine. I think we’re about the same size. You can get them back to me whenever.”

Looking in the bag, Strike saw a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. “How is…everyone?”

“Well, the good news is that after that little display at the end, you’re not the _most_ unpopular man at the wedding,” Stephen laughed, but his smile faded quickly. 

“Do you love her?” Stephen asked suddenly.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

Unseen by either of the men, Robin ducked around a corner. The champagne had been delivered moments after Cormoran left the room, so Robin had come down to see her brother. She was about to call out to him, when she heard Stephen’s question. She had reflexively shrunk back, not wanting to cause an awkward moment.

“I would give you the big brother speech,” she heard Stephen saying, “but I don’t think it’s necessary, is it?”

Cormoran’s reply was quiet, and she missed what he said. 

After waiting a few seconds, she came back around the corner and waved, announcing her presence. She was greeted with bright smiles from both men. She hugged her brother and thanked him, then asked, a little apprehensive, “How are Mum and Dad?”

Stephen pulled her into a side-armed hug. “No one’s mad at you, Rob. Everyone saw Matthew grab you, and then when he…” Stephen trailed off and cleared his throat before continuing. “They just want you to be happy. They just said to call them when you get settled wherever you’re going.”

“There were no problems after I left?”

“Oh, there were problems,” Stephen laughed. His hand twitched and Robin noticed that his knuckles were red. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be Matthew right now. Corm’s being hailed as a hero, though.” He nodded appreciatively towards Strike.

“Thank you, Stephen. For everything.” Robin hugged her brother again, and he squeezed her tight, carefully avoiding her injured arm.

Stephen extended a hand and gave Strike a hearty handshake before leaving. 

***

Back upstairs in their hotel room, Robin looked nervous, but pleasantly so. She was no longer anxious about the wedding she had left behind. Now she was nervous with anticipation for what lay ahead. Cormoran took her in his arms once more, his eyes smoldering while also betraying his nerves. 

Their kiss was heated as Robin pushed the jacket from his shoulders. Cormoran tossed it carelessly to the side, then loosened his tie and tossed it aside as well. As Robin’s hands roamed over his sides and chest, he became aware that he hadn’t showered in what felt like a week.

He pulled away from the kiss and murmured, “I’m feeling rather filthy at the moment.” 

Robin cocked a cheeky eyebrow at him and squeezed his love handles. He chuckled. “No, I mean I think I’d like to take a shower. I’m sure don’t smell very good right now.”

“No, you really don’t,” Robin teased, making him laugh again. “Can you help me first? I can’t reach the buttons.” She turned her back to him, revealing the delicate satin buttons trailing all the way down her back.

Strike had never really imagined himself getting married. Even though he had been engaged to Charlotte, a large part of him knew that it would never really happen. And yet here he was, undoing the buttons of a wedding gown with trembling fingers. The irony of it not being his bride that he was undressing was not lost on him. 

Never in a million years did he think he would be spending the night with another man’s bride. He never wanted to be “the other man”. He never got involved with a woman that was taken; he considered it to be disrespectful. The only exception had been Charlotte. He never cared who she was involved with at the time. If she wanted him, he was available. He had thought that it was because he loved her so much, but in truth he had never really respected Charlotte. He didn’t mind being the other man with her because, paradoxically, he thought so little of her and her morality. 

But it was different with Robin. He didn’t see himself as the other man in this scenario. Whereas he would normally have considered it extremely bad taste to make a move on the bride at her wedding, he thought it disrespectful _not_ to show Robin how he felt. He couldn’t let a woman so pure, so inherently good, end up with a wanker like Matthew. He loved Robin. Stealing her away from her wedding had not been an act of selfishness, but of protection and deference.

As he continued to undo the buttons on her dress, Robin’s creamy skin was revealed to him. She was wearing a white corset bra. There was a tiny patch of skin at the small of her back visible between the corset and the waistband of her knickers. Undoing the last few buttons, Cormoran found that the knickers were a sheer white thong, with a tiny blue bow at the juncture between her buttocks. He hissed in a breath as the curve of the top of her arse was exposed. 

Robin turned to face him and slowly pushed the dress from her shoulders and down over her hips. Her magnetic gaze held him captive. He couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her as the swell of her hips appeared from the top of the dress that was sliding down past her knees.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his hands over the exposed skin of her hips and upper thighs. 

As he kissed her, his hands roamed over her soft and smooth backside, cupping and kneading her arse. Cormoran enjoyed breasts of course, but he had always preferred a nice arse to a nice pair of tits. All breasts could look sexy with the right bra or the right top, but a nice arse was hard to come by. He had always tried not to look at Robin’s backside, but there were times he just couldn’t help noticing the swing of her hips or the snug fit of her trousers. Now he could see, or rather, feel that Robin’s arse was every bit as perfect as he had dreamed it would be; not that he had allowed himself to dream.

As Robin began to unbutton his shirt, he was again reminded that he needed to shower. He allowed her to finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it open. As her hands traced a path down his stomach toward his trousers, he gently caught her by the wrists. “I really need to take a shower first,” he breathed against her lips.

“Would you like some company?” she asked in a sultry voice.

He made a noise in the back of his throat somewhere between a groan and growl. “I’d love some, but I can’t do much in there without falling over.”

“I’ll just wait for you here then.” She grasped his chin and pulled him in for a quick kiss before sauntering over to the bed.

Cormoran watched her walk away from him, wondering if she was exaggerating the sway of her hips on purpose or if it was just the effects of the thong. His mind went completely blank as he gazed appreciatively at her delectable backside. Only when she turned and sat on the bed did he remember what he was doing. With a small shake of his head, he walked to the bathroom, stripping off his shirt as he went.

He showered quickly, really only washing the most important parts; head, pits, and dick. He hastily reattached his prosthesis so he could walk back into the bedroom. He eyed his trousers and shorts on the floor. After a moment’s deliberation, he left the pile where it was and wrapped the towel around his waist. He could hear soft music coming from the bedroom. 

Walking back into the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. Robin was reclining in the Jacuzzi tub, head back and eyes closed. Her knees were poking out of the water, and the top of her breasts were just visible above the bubbles. She was chewing a strawberry. Cormoran’s mouth and throat suddenly became extremely dry and he swallowed with difficulty. Robin’s phone was playing “The One That I’ve Been Waiting for?” by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.

_I’ve felt you coming girl, as you drew near_

_I knew you’d find me, ‘cause I longed you here_

_Are you my destiny?_

_Is this how you’ll appear?_

He opened the champagne and poured them both a glass. Her eyes opened slowly, heavily, as he approached the tub. Once again, he was pulled into the liquid depths of her blue-grey irises. He untied the towel around his waist and let it fall to the floor. Her face and neck displayed her desire, a delicate flush creeping up her neck as she drank in the sight of him. He lowered himself awkwardly to the edge of the tub, reflecting that it was probably not his sexiest look.

He removed his prosthesis and eased into the bubbles. Water slopped over the edge of the tub and onto the floor, displaced by his bulk. His ego, however, purred contentedly when he noticed that the heated look on Robin’s face had not faltered.

He slid around next to Robin and stretched out, letting the warm water and jets soothe his aches. He could just make out the outline of Robin’s pink nipples below the churning water. 

_As you’ve been moving surely toward me_

_My soul has comforted and assured me_

_That in time my heart, it will reward me_

Cormoran reached for her injured arm, which was now free of its brace. He cradled her elbow as he traced his fingertips along the skin next to the scar, his touch feather light.

“How’s your arm? Did he hurt you?”

Robin’s voice seemed to have failed her. She managed to breathe, “It’s a little sore, but getting better now.”

“Would it help if I kissed it?” Cormoran asked as he slowly lowered his head to her arm, his eyes never leaving hers. 

Robin nodded, too touched by his tenderness to speak. His lips were velvety soft as he gently caressed her sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, ghosting over the edge of her scar. He moved up to her elbow, tongue still occasionally flicking. His lips became firmer as he continued working his way up her arm, away from the injured portion. She pressed into him as he kissed up her neck, his tongue tickling the sensitive spot behind her ear. 

Cormoran picked up his champagne glass and took a sip, then he eased a hand around her neck and pulled her lips to his. He passed the champagne into her mouth, using his tongue to coat it over hers. She swallowed and swung a leg over his lap, straddling him. His other hand moved to cup her breast, his thumb lightly tracing over her erect nipple. 

He pulled away from her mouth to take another sip of champagne. He lowered his head to her breast, taking her nipple into his mouth with the champagne. Robin let out a throaty giggle as the bubbles tingled against her skin.

“I thought you didn’t like champagne,” she managed, sounding breathless.

“This one is rather delicious,” he responded, before taking another mouthful and holding it against her other nipple.

When he swallowed, she took a strawberry in her teeth and delivered it to his mouth. He bit into it, kissing her as he did so. Robin pulled back and giggled as they both chewed and swallowed. 

His erection was pressing into her stomach. She reached down between them to grasp his length, her hand sliding over him easily in the warm water. Cormoran moaned as he captured her mouth once more.

_I think of you in motion and just close you are getting_

_And how every little thing anticipates you_

_All down my veins my heart-strings call_

_Are you one that I’ve been waiting for?_

“Should we move to the bed?” Robin asked against his ear as he kissed down her neck again. She felt him nod. 

Robin climbed out, turned off the jets, and toweled off quickly. Cormoran lifted himself out and then with a surprising show of strength, pushed himself up to standing on his one leg. He gave himself a cursory once over with the towel. Robin was about to go to him, to be his crutch, but Cormoran surprised her by deftly moving towards the bed in a coordinated hop. 

Robin set their champagne glasses by the bed and stretched out seductively atop the duvet. Cormoran picked up his glass and scooted next to her. He poured a drop of champagne into her bellybutton, then sucked it out. Her fingers tangled into his hair as his lips and tongue moved lower over her abdomen. 

He looked up at her with smoldering, lust filled eyes as his mouth found the apex of her thighs. His lips closed over her clit, his tongue still flicking deliciously. He slid his tongue up and down one side of her outer lips, then the other, before coming back to tease at her sensitive nub. 

He pulled back and took another mouthful of champagne, then closed his mouth over her clit. She gasped at the tingling sensation of the bubbles; it was just this side of painful. He swallowed and continued his tongue’s delicate ministrations. After lapping at her for a few moments, he took another mouthful of champagne and teased her again.

Robin’s nails were raking across his scalp almost painfully. She was panting heavily and writhing beneath him.

“Cormoran,” she moaned, “I need…” her words trailed off on a moan.

“What do you need, baby?”

Robin tugged at him, trying to pull him up to her. He followed willingly and nuzzled into her neck, nipping at her earlobe.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered in her ear. “What makes you come?”

“I need…you,” she answered as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Cormoran didn’t think she was that close to orgasm yet. _But the lady gets what the lady wants,_ he thought to himself.

He rolled them over so she was on top of him. He helped her position himself at her entrance and she slowly sank down over him. He groaned and bit his lip as she sank down to the hilt. 

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered again.

She didn’t answer, but leaned down to kiss him as she started to move her hips. Cormoran thought she seemed a little embarrassed, the way she had ducked her head down. 

He knew she didn’t have experience outside of Matthew, but they had been together for 10 years. He figured he shouldn’t be surprised that she had never developed confidence in bed, with _the twat_ as her tutor. 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll just figure it out for myself,” he murmured against her ear, before gently biting her neck, causing her to moan.

He gently thrust his hips up into her. “Do you want me to touch you?”

She nodded.

“Where?” When she didn’t respond, he brought a hand to her breast and lightly pinched her nipple. “Here?” he asked.

She moaned. He brought his other hand between them and rubbed her clit with his thumb. “Here?”

She moaned again and nodded. “Which one? Tell me.”

“Both,” she gasped, throwing her head back and starting to ride him harder. He happily obliged.

She whimpered his name, which was almost his undoing. He grasped her hips firmly, trying to slow her down.

“Robin, I’m gonna come.” He ground out, still trying lift her away from him.

She paused in her movements and smiled down at him. “Isn’t that the point?” she asked coquettishly. 

He pushed at her more firmly, finally succeeding in getting her to lift off of him. “Yeah, but I don’t want to come before you do. I’m not that impatient.”

She looked self-conscious again as she said, “It’s okay, really. I don’t…that easily. I’m fine either way.”

“Well I would feel like a selfish bastard if I didn’t do my damnedest to make sure you get yours.” Then he added more huskily, “Want me to eat you out some more? You tasted quite delicious, and I think you liked it.” He winked at her.

She didn’t respond, looking shy again, which he took as a yes. He flipped her over onto her back and settled in between her legs. His mouth captured her clit once more and she sighed as his tongue resumed its expert twirling. He slid one finger inside her and hooked it in a gentle beckoning motion. He watched her face until he found that special spot, that delicious bundle of nerves inside her. He knew when he found it; her mouth fell open in surprise and she moaned loudly and incomprehensibly. 

He smiled against her cunt and continued to rub her as he suckled on her clit. His mouth and finger worked in tandem, finding the perfect rhythm. He occasionally moved his finger in a circular motion, further driving her wild. He could tell she was getting closer now. Her hips were moving erratically, her hands pulling at his hair, and her toes curled tightly. She moaned his name over and over, interspersed with “That feels so good,” and “Don’t stop.”

The sound of her moans changed suddenly, and he knew she was on the edge. He added a little more pressure with his tongue and finger, and she shattered beneath him. With a long, drawn out cry, her hips bucked and legs flailed wildly. He moved with her, helping her ride that wave to completion. His mouth softened against her as her cries and movements stilled. He kissed the inside of her thighs, then sat up and wiped his mouth with his hand. 

She laughed breathlessly. “Holy fuck, that was fantastic.”

His mouth closed around one of her nipples. He smiled and murmured, “Want another?”

She nodded enthusiastically, all shyness forgotten.

“Get up on your knees,” he swatted lightly at her hip as he sat back. “Grab the headboard,” he instructed. She complied readily.

Cormoran moved behind her and kissed the back of her neck. “Lucky for you, I’ve got enough length to make this work,” he said, his voice smug and rough, and sexy as hell. “I can easily hit your g-spot in this position.”

Robin was sitting back on her ankles. Cormoran slapped her backside with his cock and tugged at her hip, getting her to lift up a little. He pulled her hips backwards slightly into the right position, which was almost a doggy style, but more upright. Her back was against his chest, her arse pressed delightfully against his groin. Reaching down, he rubbed the head of his cock against her wetness before sliding easily inside. 

Robin moaned and leaned her head back against his shoulder as he began to thrust. He lightly nibbled at the back of her neck while he tweaked her nipples. He was indeed thrusting right against that perfect spot, and Robin was instantly right back at the precipice. Cormoran gripped her hip with one hand as he began to thrust into her harder, her arse slapping lusciously against his lower abdomen. He reached around with his other hand and rubbed her clit. 

“How’s that? Good?” His voice was slightly strained by his efforts. She nodded.

“I wanna make you come again. Are you gonna come?” he asked. 

“Yes!” she practically shouted. “Cormoran, don’t stop, I’m…going…to…” her words were replaced by a high pitched wail. Cormoran wrapped an arm around her to hold her upright as her strength gave out. He pounded into her harder, drawing forth his own release. He groaned in her ear as his hips thrust forward in short, wild bursts.

He collapsed against her, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the headboard. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he flopped on his back and pulled her down with him. Robin turned to rest her cheek against his chest. 

“Fuck, that was incredible. You’re incredible,” he panted as he kissed the top of her head.

They lay in contended silence for a while as their breathing returned to normal. Cormoran was very nearly asleep when Robin murmured, “I feel the same, you know.”

“What?” Her words were incoherent to his sleep deprived, sex addled brain.

“I heard you downstairs, with Stephen. I think I love you too.” She looked up to see his sleepy smile. 

“You’re wrong about one thing, though. I don’t _think_ I love you. I _know_ I do.” And he kissed her; long, and slow, and sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cormoran's an ass-man, and you can't convince me otherwise. It's practically canon!


End file.
